


Still here

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Avengers, MCU, Marvel, Pietro Maximoff - Fandom, Quicksilver - Fandom
Genre: F/M, the second version of my very first fic, this is so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: Musing the memories,losing my grip in the grey...Still here, by Digital Daggers





	Still here

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains mentions of death and suicide, self-harm, drug and alcohol abuse and it's overall very sad. Please turn away if you are triggered by any of the things mentioned.

_“We’re waiting for you,” Wanda said almost as if she held back something. It was then when you realized you had been staring at yourself in the mirror for the past 15 minutes. You held your make up bag in your hand as if the world depended on it, and once you let go of it, your hand felt a little awkward. You turned your head to see her slim figure leaning on the door frame. Her thin lips were pursed and her long hair was perfectly done in a braid. Everything you did went by in slow motion, so it felt like an eternity just to open your mouth._

_“I’ll be there in a minute,” you nodded and went straight away to look into your bag and get your make up done, but your hands were shaky and no matter how many deep breaths you took, it was impossible to calm down._

_“You don’t have to do it,” she sighed and sat next to you, “and if you want to, I can do that for you,” she gave you a motherly smile, as if she knew what you were going through. “And god, stand up before you ruin that dress!” her melodic laugh filled the room and you couldn’t help but to laugh too._

_And then, as if the world turned at top speed, you were tightly embraced in your sweet husband’s arms as you slowly swayed to the music. You had your head rested on the crook of his shoulder and his stubble scratched your temple; giggling, you looked up to him and with a wide smile drew across your lips, you leaned forward to kiss him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let your hands fall over his back. It was a bit wet, and you thought it was because of sweat, but when you pulled apart to see him, his shirt was covered in blood, and so was your dress._

* * *

> _  
> Musing through memories, losing my grip in the grey._
> 
> _Numbing the senses, I feel you slipping away._

You opened your eyes to find yourself screaming surrounded by the darkness of your room again, but it only lasted a few seconds. Steve was already turning on the lights to see what was going on. His chest heaved and his mouth hung open; he must have ran all the way from his dorm to yours. You were still shaking, and in your eyes the tears pooled, threatening to come out and reveal the nature of your dream… Or nightmare.

He needn’t any explanation; he knew exactly what you were going through and what had just happened. And before you broke down for good, Steve held up your shattered self and pulled you together in a hug that was as tight as the embrace in your dreams.

You were tongue-tied, shaking and sobbing. You looked down at your hands but they were clean and with no trace of blood on them. Once your breath had calmed down and you were breathing more or less normally again, Steve pulled away from you to cup your face in his strong hands. He waited for you to say something, but you were still in shock.

“It’s ok, it was just a dream,” he soothed you; you wished it was. “I’m here with you now,”

“It was our wedding day…” you mumbled, trying to recall all the vivid images. “Pietro and I were… we were just dancing and…” you hid your face in the crook of Steve’s neck and held on for dear life. He wouldn’t appear with bullet holes all over his body. He fell speechless now, but he tenderly caressed your back.

> _Fighting to hold on, clinging to just one more day._
> 
> _Love turns to ashes with all that I wish I could say._

The next morning everyone looked at you with sympathy. By the third “ _how are you feeling?_ ” you had had enough. When Natasha asked you that dreaded question, you ended up smashing your mug onto the tiles of the well decorated kitchen of the Avengers compound.

“God dammit!” You yelled with a voice you didn’t knew you still had, “I am not a dying person, I am just grieving!” You snarled, and everyone’s eyes were opened wide. They had seen you angry before, and on missions it was a recurring thing, but this was something different. You were not just plainly angry. This was rage; this was sorrow; this was exhaustion and also, agony. This was a terrible grief. “For fuck’s sake, can I have a normal breakfast for a change?” You started to pick up the bits of ceramic that laid on the floor.

Halfway finishing, Wanda kneeled next to you to help you picking up the pieces. She gave you another sympathetic look; she knew exactly how it felt to be under constant scrutiny, and for her it was a thousand times worst. She had powers that could unravel any given day and the world better be prepared for that. She was more powerful than any of the avengers put together. She shook her head in a careless manner, as if she told you to let them be. You could tell she was not doing any better; the bags under her eyes were impossible to cover, and it was clear that she had been losing some weight. Her cheeks looked hollow and her small hands looked even smaller.

You took your hands to your head and held it tightly, taking deep breaths. The images of that inauspicious day still haunted you even though the weeks went by. You just couldn’t shake it off, and each day it got harder to hold on to a happy memory.

>   _I’d die to be where you are._
> 
> _I tried to be where you are._

There were so many options, and you had access to almost all of them. You had razor blades because there were a few box cutters out there and with a bit of alcohol, they were good to go. And then there were the pills. Wanda had a ton, Tony had a ton and also did Steve, but none of them used them. Wanda felt like natural options such as meditation worked for her, Tony was a self-destructive fuck that of course rather building suits and murder-bots than dealing with his shit and Steve dealt with his problems talking to anyone. But you were not like that.

Your problems solved either punching someone or drowning them –or yourself– in alcohol, but not even that was enough. Drunk or not you thought about Pietro, about his pierced body and the amounts of blood he had lost. You thought about how he had died a hero, you thought about how he found redemption in a little boy.

The first time you took the razorblade to your thighs it felt like heaven. You sighed in relief when you saw the blood coming out. It was such a nice feeling; as if the weight you carried on your shoulders just disappeared. The crimson droplets carried with them all your fears and worries, and for a while, even your mood seemed to improve.

That was until Pietro’s memories hit you again.

And then you had to do it again. Burying the blade on your already wounded skin would bring you enough relief for a few days, and then you went back to it, over and over again. That until Steve found you training in shorts after you specifically asked to be left alone. He saw what to everyone else would be unnoticeable. His face was one of pure disappointment. He turned on his heels silently and left you alone again. He never spoke of it again, and his attentions to you seemed reduced.

>   _Every night I dream you’re still here, the ghost by my side so perfectly clear._
> 
> _When I awake you’ll disappear, back to the shadows._

It was yet another night of being haunted by Pietro. It ended the same way every single time, and not even sleeping pills could take him away from you, and they were neither bringing him back. You could feel the effect the nightmares were having on you; your skin was no longer of a healthy color, and you were thinner than ever. You were unhealthy and nothing you ever did mattered anymore. You used to joke about how dead you were on the inside, and now… It was a reality.

You got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. You let the water run a little before letting it wash your hands, your tiny hands. You drank some water to make the sleeping pills run down your throat. That always helped getting Pietro out of your head for at least 3 hours; then he’d wander inside your mind for another painful hours of being awake.

You started walking again, but you were already leaving your room and walking to Steve’s. For the past three months he had almost not said a word to you other than a polite greeting or some kind of offering. He no longer asked how you were, and no one did. It was you alone in, and with your thoughts. His door was unlocked, and there was a side of his king-sized bed that was empty. You snuggled inside the covers and turned your back to his.

He woke up due to the strange movements next to him, and when he found out it was only you, he rolled on his back and played the big spoon. The warmth of his embrace helped you have the first night of great sleep you had had in almost a year. Between the pills that were starting to kick in and the giant 90 year-old teddy bear softly breathing next to you, you surely wouldn’t see Pietro in your sleep. 

> _Hidden companion, phantom be still in my heart._
> 
> _Make me the promise that time won’t erase us, that we were not lost from the start._

You still remembered the minute the Maximoffs walked into your life. Ultron had just raised hell and they were looking for redemption, as most of the team did. He dazzled you the moment he walked into the room; his bright blue eyes searched for you and whenever he opened his mouth, his thick accent hypnotized you. Just before stepping into the quinjet, he took your hand and made a million promises that broke the exact minute his life escaped his body.

He was so sweet that night, and when you were fighting robots in Sokovia, he went to your position just to make sure you were alive. He would peck your lips quickly before going away to keep fighting. That until… It happened. 

> _I’d die to be where you are._
> 
> _I tried to be where you are_.

Even though Steve became your nightly companion to drown the nightmares of Pietro, during the day it wasn’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to keep him away from you. And you had collected some pills, and you had some strong booze with you. It was about time to put your suffering to an end.


End file.
